


Late Night Devil

by Raven_WritingDesk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bisexual Harry Potter, Biting, Bottom Harry Potter, But really what else is new?, Canon-Typical Behavior, Creative use of stinging hex, Dom Draco Malfoy, Dom/sub, Draco is a condescending asshole, Feeding, Feelings at the end, Hate Sex (sort of), Insults, Light Bondage, M/M, Masochist Harry Potter, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scratching, Snark, Songfic, Spanking, Sub Harry Potter, Top Draco Malfoy, Under-negotiated Kink, Vampire Draco Malfoy, Vampires, muggle club, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-20 22:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20683094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_WritingDesk/pseuds/Raven_WritingDesk
Summary: Harry has not seen hide nor hair of Draco Malfoy since graduation. One Saturday night, at Harry’s favorite club, Draco unexpectedly approaches him. He is the same, snarky prat Harry went to Hogwarts with, but Harry notices something different about him. Long buried feelings rise to the surface for them both, resulting in an explosive reunion.





	Late Night Devil

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by “Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer. I heard it for the first time and this idea immediately came to mind.  
Fight so dirty, but your love so sweet  
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth  
Late night devil, put your hands on me  
And never, never, never ever let go  
This is the first fic I have written since I was 16. Be nice to me? :) Also for anything related to dom/sub and kink, constructive feedback welcome!  
Unbeta'd, all typos are mine.  
Please be respectful of the effort I put into this and do not post on other platforms.

Bass thumped like a heartbeat in Harry’s chest as he walked into the club. Multicolored lights strobed, casting the patrons in a rainbow of colors. It was Saturday night, so the place was packed nearly to capacity. Harry waded his way through the pulsating crowd to the bar. He snagged an open seat and ordered a whiskey. He toyed with his glass as his eyes roamed the club. It was difficult to make out any details of the decor other than the large pride flags hanging from the walls. The community was well represented here, making this club Harry’s favorite. 

Harry had suspected he was attracted to other boys before arriving at Hogwarts. Other than his cousin, he hadn’t spent much time with boys his own age; he didn’t have any friends. Suddenly he was surrounded by them and found himself imagining what it would be like to be with one of them. Harry had a rough idea of how men and women had sex, but for this he had nothing. How would two boys have sex? He got his answer from an overheard conversation between two seventh years. He’d been tucked into a chair in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, staring at his herbology text, attempting to figure the essay out for himself before he asked Hermione for help again when he heard a pair of lowered voices. The pair of boys hadn’t noticed Harry and began talking about one of them ‘going all the way’ with his boyfriend. Harry's eyes widened and his blush deepened the longer he listened. Well. Now he knew. Which meant he now had more material to work with during his daydreams.  
He knew that people attracted to their same gender were gay. He didn’t feel like that fit him, though, as he also found girls attractive. Now what? What did they call someone who wanted to be with both genders? Harry didn’t say anything to Ron or Hermione. They had been through some serious shit together, but his Uncle had always made it clear that liking the same gender was abnormal. When they saw a pair of men or women who were together, he would make a point to tell Harry how disgusting and unnatural that was. Harry’d never seen the harm in it, even before he began having his own thoughts about boys. Why did it matter? After holiday break his second year, one of the third years came out as bisexual. Harry’d whispered to Hermione and she told him that people who were bisexual dated both boys and girls. A lightbulb turned on. 

He’d told Ron and Hermione about two months before summer holiday. Hermione had been very receptive while Ron was a bit unsure. He’d never been told explicitly that being anything other than heterosexual wasn’t normal, but he’d seen the way some of the students who came out were treated by certain people, namely the Slytherins. Pureblood culture put a strong emphasis on continuing the family line, which meant marrying someone they could have a biological child with. Ron shared his concerns with Harry, who understood but told him not to worry. 

“Did you, you know…” Ron trailed off. Harry gave him a questioning look. “Were you ever attracted to-to me?”

Hermione had punched him in the arm and told him that wasn’t an appropriate question to ask. Harry laughed and told Ron that he’d thought, for two weeks after they met, that he might be into him, but he realized that he was just excited to have a friend. Harry’s sexuality didn’t come up often and when it did, it was usually because he was asked his opinion on either Hermione or Ron’s crush. One day, Hermione had asked Harry if he had a crush on anyone. 

“Well...” he stalled, knowing what their reaction would be when he told them. He didn’t look at either of them when he finally murmured, “Malfoy’s quite fit, I suppose.” 

Ron looked at him like he had just murdered Scabbers. “You can’t be serious.”

Harry cringed. This is why he’d avoided the topic thus far.

Hermione gave Ron a look that said shut it, or else, “You know we’ll always love and support you, Harry, but Malfoy is not someone you want to get involved with. Plus, he treats you horribly.”

Harry stared at his lap.

He felt Hermione’s hand squeeze his arm. “However, if this is how you feel about him, Ron and I will have to get over it, because you’re our friend.” She pointedly raised her eyebrows at Ron. 

Ron sighed, “She’s right, mate, I’m sorry.” His still seemed apprehensive but his words were sincere. 

Harry relaxed, “I mean, it’s probably just a temporary thing, right? I’ll get over it soon enough.”

It wasn’t temporary.

Harry spent the remainder of his time at Hogwarts uncomfortably torn between the attraction he had for Malfoy and suspicion, as Malfoy was frequently up to no good. What he didn’t tell anyone was that during his time essentially stalking Malfoy, he’d seen parts of Malfoy that only deepened his attraction. He was an extremely loyal friend; even when he was being an asshole to everyone else, he treated Pansy and Blaise with an affection Harry wouldn’t think him capable of. There were small things too; on one occasion where Harry had been watching Malfoy through a gap in a bookcase, Malfoy appeared to be studying for potions. He’d glanced around suspiciously and pulled something out from under the table. Harry craned his neck to see, certain it was nefarious, only to see it was a collection of poetry. He watched as Malfoy read, expression blissful. His lips moved silently as he read. Harry had felt a strange tightness in his chest; he didn’t know how to reconcile the Malfoy he knew with this other Malfoy who was that affected by poetry. He’d left the library, confused thoughts swirling in his head. He didn’t tell Ron and Hermione about the things he saw in Malfoy, they wouldn’t understand. Harry wasn’t sure even he understood. His emotions oscillated and bled together until he couldn’t say what he was feeling anymore; he only knew that whatever it was, the intensity was going to suffocate him. 

After the War, he’d testified for Malfoy and Narcissa. Harry pushed through a strange combination of emotions as he spoke, resisting the urge to fidget as Malfoy stared at him. Finally, they all graduated and Harry thought he’d finally be free of these damned feelings. And he had been, until tonight at least. 

Harry felt eyes on him as he sipped his drink. The club he was in was Muggle, so he knew it wasn’t because someone had recognized him. He didn’t turn even when he heard a pair of footsteps stop behind him. 

“Well, if it isn’t Harry Potter,” He recognized the voice immediately and the hairs on his neck stood up. 

He swiveled his seat around to find none other than Draco Malfoy. His features had sharpened since Harry had seen him last: his already high cheekbones were razor sharp, the subtle point of his chin more prominent. He was still as willowy as ever, his figure accentuated by the tight black v-neck and jeans he had on. The colored lights playing over his pale skin gave him an ethereal look. He fixed Harry with eyes of quicksilver, his pink lips curled into a sneer.

Harry tried for an air of nonchalance even as his hold on his glass tightened. “What’re you doing here, Malfoy?”

“What, not even a hello for your most hated classmate?” 

Harry kept his face neutral. 

Malfoy huffed, “Your manners always were abysmal. I’m looking for a fuck, if you must know.” 

Harry swallowed and shoved the spark of jealousy down. Malfoy wasn’t his, never would be. 

Malfoy saw through Harry’s contrived deminor, “What’s the matter, Potter?” He bared is brilliantly white teeth in a mocking smile, “Don’t like the idea of someone else having me?”

Harry sucked in a breath and ground his teeth together. He was letting Malfoy get to him, just like he used to. “What does it matter to me what you do and with whom?”

The smile only grew, “Oh, but it does,” Malfoy’s voice dropped to a silky purr, “I can tell from your stiff posture, the way your knuckles turn white around your glass," the smile turned menacing, "and I can smell it on you."

Smell it? What could he possibly mean by that?

Harry's face betrayed his confusion, to which Malfoy said, "Haven't you heard? I'm literally not the same person you knew at Hogwarts. I went through a change of sorts."  
He let his words sink in, letting Harry puzzle it out for himself. His mind began piecing things together: Malfoy's unnatural beauty, how he seemed even paler than he was, how he could apparently smell Harry's jealousy.

Realization dawned on his features and Malfoy laughed, "You always were a bit thick.”

Harry ignored the jab. “So you’re-” He glanced around. They were surrounded by Muggles. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Which means you’re here for…”

“Oh, I am still looking for a fuck, but that won’t completely satisfy my...appetite.”

“So, what, you just skulk around and pick out someone who looks tasty?”

Malfoy raised his chin, “I do not _skulk._ And I don’t just pick someone out; I do have a type.”

Harry’s heart stuttered when Malfoy stepped into his space and put his lips to his ear.

“And I’m so _hungry_,” He purred. The hairs on Harry’s arms stood on end. 

Malfoy inhaled deeply and Harry knew he was taking in his scent. He breathed out in an extended sigh and pulled back.

“So, if you’ll excuse me,” Malfoy’s fangs flashed, how could Harry have missed them? “I have a meal to find,” He turned to go.

“I’ll do it.”

Malfoy looked at Harry, perfectly arched eyebrow raised, “You’ll do what?”

“I’ll let you feed from me.”

Malfoy laughed incredulously, “And why would you do that?”

Harry shrugged, matching Malfoy’s silver gaze, “I’m your type, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have come over here,” He smirked at Malfoy’s glare, “And if it means keeping you from feeding on an unsuspecting Muggle, I’m more than willing.”

Malfoy slid his elegant, slim hands into his pockets. He leaned in until his face was inches from Harry’s. He smelled of lemons and spice. “Will you ever get over this hero complex of yours, Potter?” His tone was demeaning.

Harry narrowed his eyes, willing himself not to rise to the bait, “As long as there are still people like you who target those weaker than them, I guess not.”

Malfoy laughed mirthlessly, “Most of the wizarding world would say I don’t qualify as a person anymore.”

“Regardless, my offer stands.”

Malfoy looked him up and down appraisingly, making Harry feel like he was an expensive pair of shoes Malfoy was deciding to buy. 

“Fine,” Malfoy brushed back a nonexistent stray hair, “Come on, then.” He walked away without looking to see if Harry followed. 

Harry dropped a bill next to his glass and tried to catch up. It seemed he was back to chasing after Malfoy. 

Malfoy’s grip on Harry’s shoulder was vice-like as he apparated them to his flat. 

Malfoy snapped on the lamp in the corner of the room. Harry looked around Malfoy’s living room; it was modern and minimalistic. The color scheme was creme and greys with touches of red. 

“Nice place.”  
Malfoy snorted, “Are you really going to comment on the decor?”

“You did say my manners were subpar.” 

The corner of Malfoy’s mouth twitched and Harry knew he was holding back a smile.

“So, uh…” Harry rocked back on his heels awkwardly as Malfoy moved toward him, “Do you want to have a drink, or should we get right to it…?”

“Shut the fuck up, Potter,” Malfoy jerked him forward by the front of his shirt and kissed him bruisingly. He forced Harry’s lips apart and their tongues met. His other hand took hold of Harry’s arm, and Harry knew he would have marks where Malfoy’s fingers dug into his flesh. He responded avidly, twisted his fingers into Malfoy’s nearly white hair and tugged. Malfoy’s fingers clamped down on his wrist and pulled Harry’s hand from his hair. He released his shirt and dragged him down a small hallway and into the bedroom. He resumed the kiss and walked Harry back until the back of his knees met the mattress. He forced Harry’s shirt off and mapped Harry’s chest and stomach with his hands. There was a reverence in his actions that Harry was sure he’d imagined. He tried to take back some control by fighting Mafloy’s mission to explore every corner of his mouth. He mimicked Mafloy’s action from earlier, fisting his hand into Malfoy’s shirt. Malfoy took a hand from where it firmly held Harry’s jeans and seized his wrist. His hold tightened until Harry let go. 

“Don’t try me, Potter,” Malfoy hissed, “Vampires aren’t known for being gentle.”

“Who said I wanted gentle?” Harry countered. 

Malfoy smiled wickedly and shoved Harry backwards onto the bed. “Incarcerous.” 

Silver scarves manifested out of thin air, winding around Harry’s wrists and pulling them over his head so he was bound to the bed frame. Harry watched, heart pounding, as Malfoy circled the bed. His movements were like liquid in their fluidity, resembling a panther in his black clothes. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. 

“Are you enjoying this, Potter? Being tied down, helpless, completely at my mercy?” Malfoy prowled forward and climbed on top of Harry, knees on either side of Harry’s hips. “I think you are, arousal is a very distinguishable scent,” He stripped his shirt off, giving Harry a view of his alabaster chest and stomach. The only flaw was the diagonal scar from Sectumsempra. Malfoy reached out and slowly dragged his sharp nails down Harry’s sternum, leaving bright red scratches. Harry hissed in a breath, the sting going straight to his growing erection. 

“What would people say, I wonder, if they knew their Savior was willingly tied to my bed,” He loomed over Harry, one hand next to his head, the other grabbing his hair and sharply pulling his head back, exposing his throat and making Harry cry out. “What would it do to your reputation, if someone were to find out?”

Harry’s eyes were wide and his breath came in pants, “You wouldn’t,” There was a touch of genuine fear in his voice.

Malfoy leered at him and swiped his tongue up Harry’s throat to his ear.

“I bet Weasley would _drop dead_,” He whispered.

Harry gritted his teeth, “Fuck you,” He ground out.

Malfoy chuckled darkly, “Patience, Potter.”

He left a path of open-mouthed kisses and shallow bites down the left side of Harry’s chest. He swirled his tongue around Harry’s dark nipple before biting down. Harry tried to contain a moan but didn’t quite succeed. 

“Just let go, Potter,” The timbre of Malfoy’s voice was soothing, “let go of the bullshit expectations and your Golden Boy exterior,” His hand moved down Harry’s body to cup his erection. He squeezed firmly and Harry couldn’t stop the moan that broke free from his throat. Malfoy sat up and unfastened Harry’s jeans, then pulled them down along with Harry’s underwear. Harry gasped with relief as his cock sprang free. Malfoy yanked them the rest of the way off and threw them to the floor. His own followed and he crawled back onto the bed, looking every inch the predator he was. Malfoy gazed hungrily at Harry’s cock. He licked his lips, looking Harry in the eye as he took him into his mouth. Harry’s lungs emptied when Malfoy hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Malfoy proceeded to draw all manner of sounds from Harry as he worked his skilled tongue over Harry’s cock. As he did, the tip of one of his fangs scraped across Harry’s foreskin.

“Motherfuck,” Harry groaned. 

Malfoy pulled off, “Never would have pegged you as being into pain, Potter,” he dug his nails into the flesh of Harry’s thigh hard enough to break the skin. He sucked the blood out from under his nails, “Harry Potter: masochist, savior of us all.”

“A little masochism comes with the territory,” Harry panted, “not that you’d know, all you ever needed to be was an obedient little pawn.”

Malfoy’s silver irises flashed red. He grabbed Harry’s face, fingers digging into either side of his jaw.

“You have a smart mouth, Potter,” He spat, “Let’s see if we can change that.”

He manhandled Harry so he was on his side, arms still tied above his head. Malfoy slapped Harry across the ass, hard. Harry cried out more from the surprise that Malfoy had hit him than from the pain. Malfoy brought his hand down again in the same spot and Harry’s groan came from deep in his chest. Malfoy spanked him two more times in quick succession and all Harry could do was moan.

“You like that, don’t you? Tell me how much you like it.” Malfoy slapped his ass again.

“I like it.” 

“How much, Potter?” He punctuated Harry’s name with another crack. 

Harry hissed, “A lot.”

Malfoy massaged the hot, red skin, “Do you want more?”

Harry looked down to where his cock was leaking a significant amount of precum onto the sheets. “Yes.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please,” he said, almost a whisper.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

_Bastard_, Harry thought, _you can probably hear the people in the house across the street._

“I’m waiting,” Malfoy raked his nails across Harry’s hip.

“Please give me more. I want the pain,” He may have done what Malfoy wanted but his eyes were defiant. 

Malfoy gave him a satisfied smirk as he resumed reddening Harry’s ass further. He alternated between the backs of Harry’s thighs and his ass, so Harry didn’t know where to expect the next blow to land.

When Malfoy decided he’d made his point he rolled Harry back over. Harry sucked a breath through his teeth when his burning skin met the sheets. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his lungs heaved. Malfoy resumed his position atop Harry. He drew a single, bone white finger from Harry’s Adam's apple to between his pectorals. Malfoy watched the path of his finger, pausing at the end of Harry’s breast bone. He gave Harry a calculating look before lightly pressing his finger to the bud of Harry’s right nipple. Harry cried out, a sharp, clear sound as a stinging pain raced mercilessly across his skin. 

He glared darkly at Malfoy, “Was that a fucking stinging hex?”

Malfoy tapped his left nipple which produced the same sensation, “What do you think?”

Harry attempted to maintain his dark look but he couldn’t deny how amazing it felt. Malfoy obviously got off on hurting him, if the beads of precum leaking from Mafloy’s cock weren’t proof enough. It pooled above his navel and it was the hottest thing Harry had ever seen. Malfoy’s eyes had turned a bloody shade of red, his breath coming quickly through his nose. Their eyes locked, ruby meeting emerald. 

“Are you going to fuck me, or just play with your food?” 

Malfoy summoned a bottle of lube in reply. He coated his fingers and moved between Harry’s thighs. A cool finger pressed firmly against his entrance and began circling the rim.

Harry dropped his head back onto the pillows, “Ah.”

Malfoy slipped the first finger in, not giving Harry much time to get used to the sensation before adding another. 

“Goddamnit, Potter, you’re so fucking tight,” Mafloy groaned. His voice was colored with want. He pressed in a third finger, moving in and out before abruptly stopping.  
“I can’t wait anymore,” Mafloy hiked Harry’s leg over his shoulder and lined himself up. He entered Harry steadily but not slowly. Harry didn’t care; his could only revel in the feeling of Malfoy finally being inside him. 

Malfoy was fully seated. His nails once again pierced Harry’s skin and he was shaking with the effort of keeping himself from immediately plowing Harry into the mattress.

Harry looked at him with eyes bright with need, “Do it, Malfoy”, he rasped, “Fuck me.”

He didn’t need further encouragement and began fucking Harry at a punishing pace. Malfoy anchored his other hand on Harry’s hip, using it as leverage to pull him back onto his cock as he thrust forward. 

Harry was drowning in competing sensations; the unadulterated pleasure of Mafloy’s cock moving inside him, the pain of where his nails had started to draw blood, and the all-consuming, predatory desire in Mafloy’s eyes. A trickle of blood ran down Harry’s thigh from Mafloy’s grip. It was quickly sucked off his skin and he felt the scrape of fangs, ratcheting his arousal impossibly higher. 

Mafloy’s nostrils flared; he dropped Harry’s leg and lunged forward, traveling deeper into Harry, hitting his prostate dead on. Harry’s vision clouded over. He locked his legs around Malfoy, who drove into that bundle of nerves over and over. Malfoy’s hand came to his throat, his eyes glowing with otherworldly light. They were fixated on Harry’s pulse where it pounded through his veins so close to the surface. He sank his fangs into the large artery without warning, and Harry screamed. He felt suction and Malfoy let out an animalistic growl. The added stab of pain and pleasure rapidly threw Harry over the edge and he came with a yell.  
Mafloy’s hips continued without mercy, and Harry could distantly hear the obscene slurping sound of Malfoy greedily taking what he wanted. He thrust into Harry one last time, his body arching over Harry. His stomach muscles spastically contracted and he unlatched from Harry’s neck. Malfoy kissed him passionately, spreading Harry’s blood over his own face and mouth. He broke away for a few seconds to pass his tongue over the puncture marks. Harry had been injured and healed enough times that he recognized the feeling of his skin knitting back together. 

Malfoy kissed Harry leisurely as they came down. Harry struggled against his bonds, badly wanting to touch. Mafloy’s hand left his throat briefly and they disappeared. Harry immediately seized Malfoy’s face in his large, hot hands. Mafloy ran his hand up and down his ribs, still inside him; he almost seemed reluctant to pull out. Harry was content to let them remain connected, feeling the post-sex swell of emotion he always had. Mafloy gasped against his lips, brushed Harry’s hair off his forehead. He vibrated under Harry’s touch. There was a distinctly vulnerable look in his eyes and he pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth and slowly pulled out. Harry tried to ignore the emptiness he felt after. Mafloy was still Malfoy, no matter what had just happened, no matter Malfoy’s strange change in demeanor as he settled next to Harry.  
His eyes were shut tight, his brows scrunched together. Harry had the urge to ask if he was alright, but he didn’t. Malfoy sat up and faced Harry, curling his legs under him. 

“How are you feeling?” he waved a hand over Harry’s face, cleaning off the blood with a muttered charm.

Harry tried to hide his shock at Mafloy’s genuine concern, “Exhausted, but otherwise okay. I feel like I just ran the world’s filthiest marathon.” 

Malfoy smirked suggestively, then asked, “Do you feel light headed? Any numbness in your hands or feet?”

“No numbness, but I am a touch dizzy.”

“I’ll be right back,” He gracefully stood and left the room. He returned with a glass of water and a vial of blood replenishing potion, along with a wet cloth.  
Harry sat up and downed both, Mafloy watching attentively as he did. Malfoy set the empty glass and vial on the nightstand. He wiped Harry’s chest and stomach with the warm cloth, removing the come. Harry’s breath caught at the gentleness of the gesture. Malfoy deposited it next to the glass and vial before he opened the drawer and retrieved a glass jar. He kneeled by Harry’s side and removed the lid. Malfoy dipped his fingers in and, after taking Harry’s arm, rubbed a salve onto the angry red marks on Harry’s wrists. He messaged it in with his thumbs, eyes flicking between his work and Harry’s face. When he’d finished with his wrists, he told Harry to roll over. Harry hesitantly complied and felt Malfoy’s hand spreading the salve over his still-burning cheeks and thighs. He sighed at the cooling sensation. He rolled onto his back as Malfoy replaced the jar. Harry didn’t move a muscle when Malfoy dragged the tip of his pink tongue over the crescent-shaped cuts where his nails had broken skin. Harry’s cock took interest at the sight and he mentally admonished it. Once the cuts healed Malfoy joined him to lay on the bed, the full length of his arm flush against Harry’s. Harry thought he’d felt fingertips touch his hand. Harry didn’t know how to process the strange turn of events. Malfoy had mercilessly spanked and fucked him within an inch of his life, and now he was being...caring? Why was he taking care of Harry? 

“What are you thinking?” Malfoy whispered.

Harry took a steadying breath, “I’m wondering why you’re being so nice to me now.”

Malfoy whipped his head to look at Harry, “I just inflicted no small amount of pain on you and fucked you hard, not to mention draining you of a significant amount of blood. Did you think I’d just kick you out without at least making sure you’re alright?” A sadness crept into his features, “Do you still think so lowly of me?”

Harry was silent, unsure of how to answer. Malfoy hadn’t exactly been kind when he approached Harry at the club, baiting and goading-and pissing him off-just like he always had. There was no indication that he’d changed a bit, so Harry hadn’t known what to expect when he’d went home with Mafloy.

Malfoy winced and turned away, staring at the ceiling once again with a pained expression. 

Harry sighed, “I think a lot of things about you, Malfoy, but I don’t think lowly of you. When we were at the club, you seemed like you always had been in school, so I assumed that whatever headway you’d make after the War had been lost,” He admitted honestly, “So I didn’t know what to expect after you’d gotten what you wanted.”

“So those things you said…”

“I was being a dick to get back at you for what you were saying. It was a low blow, and I’m sorry I said it.” Harry replied ashamedly. 

Malfoy gave a small nod. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off.

“Although, that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it. Being talked down to, like I was beneath you. I’ve actually never had someone talk to me like that,” He huffed a laugh, “Wouldn’t have guessed I wanted anyone to,” his tone was self-deprecating. 

“Well, if you ever need put back in your place, I’d be up to the task,” Mafloy said with a nonchalance that Harry saw right through. 

Harry grinned. He had a sudden thought. A dangerous, hopeful thought. He mulled it over in his head while they lay there in silence. Malfoy was stealing furtive glances at him from the corner of his eye, the hands that rested on his stomach fidgeting, giving away his anxiety.

“So,” Harry began casually, “how often do you need to feed, anyway?”

“Twice a month. I can go a short while longer but I’m very unpleasant to be around.”

Harry chuckled.

“What?”

“You mean you get hangry?” Harry’s chuckle grew into a laugh.

Malfoy gave an inelegant snort and joined Harry in his laughter, “I guess I do, yes.”

They were quiet again for a few moments. Harry decided to take the plunge.

“I would-if you’re amenable, of course-be willing to do this again, you know, next time…”

A moment came and went, then another, and Harry began to worry he’d fucked up. Before his mind had a chance to spiral, one side of Malfoy’s lips quirked into a half-smile.

“Still protecting poor, innocent Muggles from the big, bad vampire?” 

“Hmm. While you may be big,” His eyes slid down Malfoy’s form to his cock; Malfoy looked embarrassed, “You’re not so bad.”

Malfoy looked at him with a surprisingly open expression. His eyes dropped to Harry’s lips and he wet his own. Harry had already swan dived into The Lake of Risk once tonight, so he figured he may as well enjoy the swim. He rolled onto his side, supporting himself on his elbow and looking down into Malfoy’s beautiful face. Malfoy’s breath caught when Harry’s hand ghosted across his chest and down his ribs. His eyes flicked between Harry’s eyes and lips. Harry leaned down and caught Malfoy’s lips in a slow, gentle kiss. He felt more emotions well up inside him and channeled them into the kiss. Malfoy made a small sound completely incongruent with the Malfoy that had just fucked him senseless. Harry found that he quite liked it.

Malfoy pulled back, cheeks flushed pink, “If I were to take you up on your offer, would I only see you those two nights a month?”

“Only if that’s what you want. I’d much prefer seeing you more often than that.”

“More often sounds good,” Malfoy smiled.

“I’m glad you came over and interrupted my otherwise boring evening, Malfoy,” Harry smiled back.

“Draco.”

“What?”

“I want you to call me Draco,” he repeated softly.

“Then you should call me Harry.”

Draco put an arm around Harry’s neck and pulled him back down for a kiss, “Deal.”


End file.
